Hope is the crystal blue of a mother’s eyes, the clear sky blue of a robin’s egg, a spring day.
Hope is the sweet smell of cookies baking, warm chocolate chip.
Hope is ice cream cones, warm blankets, soft feather pillows.
Hope is comfort, home. Hope is also new, like just finished laundry smelling of lavender & cotton.
Hope is fresh, wet ink on a crisp Is there Hope in the sea, or does it belong only to the sky? Birds have it in flight, but fish swim fast and glide with it. A heart can glide & fly with even a small bit of Hope. “First star on the right and straight on till morn!” I hear Peter saying.
Hope is imagination and colours, an entire rainbow full of them. A sky and universe so vast that no human could have created it.
And so I’m back to God, bringer of Hope, Ultimate Caretaker. We light candles for Hope Eternal but too quickly our tiny flames burn out, extinguished by an ever-present wind: Time. We return to the earth yet Hope remains, to wake again with the sun.
Have a Blessed Easter Sunday, filled with hope & love!
Happy National Poetry Month! Today, I’m sharing poems from Ms. Emily Dickinson in a lovely edition of Poetry for Young People. Edited by Frances Schoonmaker Bolin & Illustrated by Chi Chung.
I hope you enjoyed watching & listening to my readings of Ms. Dickinson’s poems. She wrote about ordinary life in extraordinary, imaginative ways! Bringing light to life, I love the hope in her poems. Did they inspire you to go find and read poems on your own or to your children? I hope so. Maybe they will even stir you to write your own poems. 🙂
Thank you for stopping by Space to Dream and I wish you a wonderful spring day! -Stacie
Today, before reading my poem, I invite you to read my post over @ Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads. In it, I share musings on poetry, writing & metaphor. The use of metaphor in language increases not only its beauty, but also its depth and power. It is no wonder to me that poetry is where we find metaphor in droves, whether concrete or abstract – it is the associations of words with images, sounds, smells & textures that makes it rich. Indeed, metaphor makes us aware of our own unique experiences. Suffice to say, I could write endlessly & perhaps complete a dissertation on the subject. While my post is unapologetically academic in tone, it isn’t for students alone – it’s for all humans who seek to know the world, what it means to them, and the myriad of ways in which we can express understanding through language.
My poem is also published in Space to Dream: Poems. I wrote it as a young woman, when I was embarking on the beginning of my journey in higher education as a music major. It is perhaps the largest metaphor that has shaped my life, for much of my experience has been either onstage or offstage in preparation for a performance. The stage, which may be a frightening space for some – has always been a place of refuge & safety to me. I close my eyes & feel a deep comfort in remembering the scent & feel of the curtains, that creaky spot in the backstage floorboards, the heat of the lights, the frenetic sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments, the dust clouds in the prop room & the pitter-patter of dancers in soft shoe warming up.
ISU Madrigals concert, Center for the Performing Arts, 2000
These are some of the many performance memories I carry with me. I often joke that I could chart my life by the choirs that I’ve sung in and the theatres I’ve performed in, but there is truth in that jest. The time spent preparing for, as well as the performances themselves – have become metaphors for my life just as the stage itself has, even at a time in my life when the offstage days of motherhood and writing have become my focus, with onstage performances becoming fewer.
My stage will always be there, all I have to do is look out into the light to see it.